CAPT. M. (_Sniffing openly and feeling in his left cuff._) I b-b--believe, I'b doing it already. Old bad, what _cad_ I say? I'b as pleased as--Cod _dab_ you, Gaddy! You're one big idiot and I'b adother. (_Pulling himself together._) Sit tight! Here comes the Devil-dodger. JUNIOR CHAPLAIN. (_Who is not in the Doctor's confidence._) We--we are only men in these things, Gadsby. I know that I can say nothing now to help-- CAPT. M. (_Jealously._) Then don't say it! Leave him alone. It's not bad enough to croak over. Here, Gaddy, take the _chit_ to Bingle and ride hell-for-leather. It'll do you good. I can't go. JUNIOR CHAPLAIN. Do him good! (_Smiling._) Give me the _chit_ and I'll drive. Let him lie down. Your horse is blocking my cart--_please!_ CAPT. M. (_Slowly without reining back._) I beg your pardon--I'll apologise. On paper if you like. JUNIOR CHAPLAIN. (_Flicking_ M.'s _charger._) That'll do, thanks. Turn in, Gadsby, and I'll bring Bingle back--ahem--'hell-for-leather.' CAPT. M. (_Solus._) It would have served me right if he'd cut me across the face. He can drive too. I shouldn't care to go that pace in a bamboo cart. What a faith he must have in his Maker--of harness! Come _hup_, you brute! (_Gallops off to parade, blowing his nose, as the sun rises._) (INTERVAL OF FIVE WEEKS.) MRS. G. (_Very white and pinched, in morning wrapper at breakfast table._) How big and strange the room looks, and oh how glad I am to see it again! What dust, though! I must talk to the servants. Sugar, Pip? I've almost forgotten. (_Seriously._) Wasn't I very ill? CAPT. G. Iller than I liked. (_Tenderly._) Oh, you bad little Pussy, what a start you gave me! MRS. G. I'll never do it again. CAPT. G. You'd better not. And now get those poor pale cheeks pink again, or I shall be angry. Don't try to lift the urn. You'll upset it. Wait. (_Comes round to head of table and lifts urn._) MRS. G. (_Quickly._) _Khitmatgar, bowarchi-khana see kettly lao_. Butler, get a kettle from the cook-house. (_Drawing down_ G.'s _face to her own._) Pip dear, _I_ remember. CAPT. G. What? MRS. G. That last terrible night. CAPT. G. Then just you forget all about it. MRS. G. (_Softly, her eyes filling._) Never. It has brought us _very_ close together, my husband. There! (_Interlude._) I'm going to give Junda a _saree._ CAPT. G. I gave her fifty dibs. MRS. G. So she told me. It was a 'normous reward. Was I worth it? (_Several interludes._) Don't! Here's the _khitmatgar_.--Two lumps or one, Sir? THE SWELLING OF JORDAN If thou hast run with the footmen and they have wearied thee, then how canst thou contend with horses? And if in the land of peace wherein thou trustedst they wearied thee, then how wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan? SCENE.--_The_ GADSEYS' _bungalow in the Plains, on a January morning._ MRS. G. _arguing with bearer in back veranda._ CAPT. M. _rides up._